House of Belonging

by Andrea Thome

  So she punted. “Logan, I’m flattered. Really, I know you must have a long line of women who would jump at the opportunity to go out with you. I suspect you could charm the devil himself if given the chance.” She sighed, trying to find the right words. “I just have so much happening right now, with the opening of the restaurant and now this Walland House event to plan. Could we agree to revisit the idea of a first date when Food and Wine is over with? If you ask me again after my opening, I promise I’ll be ready with a straight answer.”

  It would also give me time to deal with the other issue.

  She watched him digest the information, and reconcile it for himself.

  “OK, so it’s not a no, which is more than I’d hoped for coming in here, if I’m being honest.” He smiled at her and cocked his head sideways. “Is this a bad time to tell you that I’m in charge of coordinating the Walland House event with you? You can thank India for that. She’s not exactly subtle when she’s matchmaking. But I promise to keep things strictly business between now and the Classic. Scout’s honor.” He held out his hand to her, and Laina accepted with a grin and a shake of her head.

  They were still smiling as they walked back out onto the patio together where Logan said goodbye before returning to Kiera, and Laina paused, looking around for India, Wyatt, and Van.

  They’d been watching for her from near the base of the gondola a few yards away, and Van waved to get Laina’s attention. As she headed over to join them, Van heard India whisper something to her husband, and then Wyatt’s warning to Van rang clear.

  “Never, ever doubt my wife’s skills. Those two are done for.”

  Laina caught up with them, and they spent the next hour strolling the streets of town, chatting with India and Wyatt about their vision for the Walland House dinner. Laina loved talking about food when she was inspired, and sharing her vision about how she wanted this event to shape up. Together, the group of friends collaborated as they walked, and by the time they’d arrived back at Main Street to prepare to go their separate ways, Laina could envision the concept firmly in her mind’s eye.

  India said, “Why don’t we leave the rest of the details to you? I can tell we’re all on the same page, and after seeing what you did with the wedding, I’m excited to experience how you’ll surprise me with this party. Let’s meet again a week from tomorrow, so we’ll have a few days of wiggle room in case anyone decides to make adjustments before the event. Although, I can assure you, I highly doubt there will be any changes on our part. Unless Logan decides to be a stickler.”

  India smiled at Laina, leaning in to hug her friend goodbye. “He’s a great guy, Laina. And now that we all know the two of you aren’t a couple”—she thumbed her hand at Van knowingly—“Logan’s not going to take no for an answer. I hope you’ll accept our word for it.” She looked to Wyatt, who nodded his head in agreement. “He’s not what you’re expecting. At least consider giving him a shot.”

  Laina struggled for a response, glad when Van jumped in to save her. Or not. “I always say, the best way to get over heartbreak is to leap back in with both feet, lass.” Van offered Laina his arm, which she took, waving goodbye to India and Wyatt over her shoulder as they parted ways.

  As soon as they turned on Spring Street near where Laina had parked her car earlier that day, she gently nudged Van away. “Some friend you are. ‘I always say’? Please! I thought you were going to cover for me, tell them I have too much to deal with right now to mix in a guy. Which is true, you know!”

  Van stopped her, laying his hands on top of Laina’s shoulders as he spoke. “Laina, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way. You are too goddamned serious. And more than a little bit dramatic.”

  He gestured toward her all-black ensemble, her uniform when she was working in the restaurant, but, more often than not, she gravitated toward the color in her everyday wardrobe choices too. “Do you really need to dress like Lara Croft in Tomb Raider every day? With that bonny little haircut and ripped physique, I’m not surprised you’ve piqued Logan’s interest. I have got to hand it to him; he’s not easily deterred, and from what Wyatt and India told me, he’s a good solid bloke. Believe me. I drilled them for information while you were inside that restaurant. They didn’t give me any reason to discourage you from at least getting to know the man better. No one is suggesting marriage.”

  Laina shuddered at the thought. She’d stopped allowing herself to dream about marriage a long time ago, and she wasn’t about to let the efforts of a dewy-eyed cowboy revive the idea. No matter how hot he was and how bad her traitorous body wanted to know what it felt like to be up against his. She plucked Van’s hands off her shoulders so they could continue walking together.

  “I already told him I’d consider a date once all of this Food and Wine stuff is over with.” She made a face at Van’s feignedshock reaction and continued. “But I have some other things I have to resolve first.” Her features were tortured as she spoke. “I owe Patrick’s family an explanation, Van. I know I have to reach out. But I’m having a hard time trying to come up with what to say to them, because there is a huge part of me that is so relieved. That makes me feel like a horrible person. Shouldn’t grief be the overwhelming emotion here?”

  Van shook his head. “Laina, you’ve been grieving since you met Patrick. Grieving what you knew you could never have with him because he wasn’t capable of being what you needed him to be. He was sick the day you met, and it’s impossible to build something strong on that kind of foundation. There can’t be more bad days than good; you know that. The real death was when you finally got the courage to break it off. The death of what might have been. I’ve seen you finally start to look to the sun again over this past year, even if a bit reluctantly. Colorado has been good for you. Don’t step back into the shadows now. Go for it. Live. Love. Get your heart broken, if you must, but don’t just exist anymore.”

  Laina had tears streaming down her face listening to Van tell her everything her heart already knew. Van wasn’t finished, though.

  “Go home tonight and call them, or write to them, or whatever it is you feel you need to do. Get rip-roaring drunk or smoke some grass and cry your eyes out. But let this be the bookend to it all. That doesn’t mean you can’t still feel sad when you remember Patrick, but give yourself permission to move on, Laina. What’s the alternative? He made a choice, and now so must you. Choose life.”

  Van leaned over and kissed her on the forehead, leaving her next to her car as he turned to walk to his place the next block over.

  That night, Laina took Van’s advice. She poured herself two fingers of whiskey neat when she got home and sipped the drink as she made her way upstairs to change, flipping on the light switch that controlled her bedside lamps. Setting her drink down on the nightstand, she reached back to unhook her bra, sliding it off one arm, then pulling the other end of the garment through the opposite arm of her shirt. She changed into her favorite old pair of sweatpants from high school. It was a miracle they hadn’t disintegrated by now, after all the times she’d washed them over the years. They felt like coming home, and that’s what she needed right now.

  Reaching for her drink, she finished it in one gulp, put the crystal glass down on the dresser with a thump, and crawled into her bed. She leaned over and reached into her nightstand for a few of the creamy sheets of stationery and her favorite pen. She usually only used this special paper for her recipes and ideas for the restaurant, but tonight she had something else in mind. Laina leaned back into the stack of pillows she’d assembled, pulling the billowing white duvet up over her lap. She used the back of her laptop as a desk as she started to write.

  Pausing, she reached back into the drawer and pulled her journal out. Opening it, she shuffled the pages until she got to the one where she’d tucked the old picture inside. Patrick looked so happy in the photograph, which was why it was the only thing she’d decided to keep from their time together. They were at Burning Man, sitting happily side by side o
n a colorful blanket in the middle of a sea of humanity: Laina in her tiny faded cutoffs and black tank, and Patrick in his red board shorts, shirtless and wearing his old baseball hat backward. She loved this photograph for so many reasons; it reminded her of a time when she’d felt lighter and unencumbered by all the responsibilities she had now. But there was one reason she loved it most of all. It was the only photograph she had in which Patrick wasn’t holding a drink. In fact, it was the only three-day period of time in their relationship when he’d been sober for that many consecutive days. Patrick had loved Laina. But he’d loved drugs and alcohol more.

  Dear Mr. and Mrs. Robertson,

  I received word today of Patrick’s passing, and the news took my breath away. I’m grateful to Jeremy for mailing me the newspaper clipping along with his letter. I can’t imagine your pain, and I wanted to tell you how sorry I am. Patrick was more than just a boyfriend to me. He was my best friend, and my confident, and he inspired me in ways that I hope will continue to be woven throughout my work for a long time to come. There are some who say that the souls with the brightest lights burn out the fastest. We are blessed to have them for a short time only, and we have to make sure we soak up every moment and make them count. I hope you know I tried to do that during my precious time with your son. Our relationship, although not destined to be a lifelong one, was sacred to me, and even after we stopped talking last summer, I continued to love him and to mourn our partnership, and I still do so, even as I write this. I’ll never forget Patrick, and I just wanted you to know that I’m one of so many people on whom he had a profound impact.

  I’m in Colorado now, making a life for myself. I’m opening a new restaurant in a couple of weeks, so I hope if you’re ever in the area, you’ll please stop by and say hello. I’ve enclosed a card with all of my contact information. Please give my love to Jane and Fiona—and Jeremy of course. I can’t imagine how hard it is for them to have lost their brother. Patrick loved them all so much, just as he loved the two of you. I know how important you all were to him, and how he must have tried so hard to stay. It’s a fickle beast, dependency. Never quite sure who to let go and who to devour. Patrick must have been irresistible, as he was to so many who met him. I’m devastated that he couldn’t find his way free.

  My deepest sympathies to each of you,

  Laina Ming

  Laina expelled the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and stared at the loose sheets of paper in her lap. She hoped her words didn’t make things more painful for them, and she’d hesitated about whether to mention Jeremy at all, but she couldn’t write the letter without offering her condolences to all of them. Patrick’s relationship with his brother had been complicated to say the least, but despite all that had happened, Laina knew he loved Jeremy in the way brothers who had strained relationships did. Besides, she wasn’t sure his parents were fully aware of all that had happened between them, so it was best to act under the assumption that they weren’t privy to every gory detail.

  She knew Patrick wouldn’t have dragged them into the hurt if he were capable of another way. He had his faults, but even at his most intoxicated, he always attempted to protect his family from pain with a ferocity she’d admired. She wished she could say the same about Jeremy, who was much more likely to throw a match over his shoulder as he walked away. Patrick’s brother had accused Laina of doing the very same thing when she’d finally left, but all these months later, she knew she’d been right not to look back. It had been between Jeremy and Patrick at that point, and even if she’d have stayed, it wouldn’t have made a difference. Patrick was an addict, and he was in too deep. She didn’t have a life preserver sturdy enough. Laina prayed that he and his brother had found a way to make things right before his death.

  Folding the letter in half, she set it on the nightstand and reached over to turn off the lights. As she drifted off to sleep, she felt a peace she hadn’t felt in a long time. Laina couldn’t quite remember the details, but when she woke the next morning, she sensed that in her dreams, she’d made a conscious decision to turn her face back toward the sun.

  CHAPTER

  SIX

  Over the next two weeks, the town of Aspen transformed into a place where it became hopeless to try to drive a car, and where grand white tents covered almost every green space available, ready to house the various events of the Food and Wine Classic. It was impossible to find a landscape company in the county that wasn’t booked solid. Most were occupied with stuffing flower boxes and planters full of colorful creations outside of the shops and hotels on Durant Street. The Aspen Chamber and elected officials wanted to ensure that anyone who needed one more reason to fall in love with the mountain enclave wasn’t disappointed. The city was perfectly polished and ready for its close-up.

  Logan spent most of his days working with Buck to make sure they had their horses ready for the sold-out crowds that Willow and Garrett were expecting over at Walland House. They’d also managed to hash out the details of the Luxury Survivor package. They would be taking four couples on a trail ride up toward Maroon Bells to a private campsite by the river that they’d decked out with luxurious tents and a rustic but fully functioning dining area. Buck had some prior experience as a chuckwagon chef, so they agreed he’d be in charge of the evening’s dinner. After a night in the woods and a breakfast by the campfire the next morning at sunrise, the guests would return to Walland House for the remainder of their stay. The campout would take place that Friday evening, the night after it was auctioned off during the special dinner at Laina’s restaurant.

  Logan and Buck were working side by side the Monday morning before the Classic, setting up the campsite when Logan stood suddenly, reaching for his phone to check the time. Damn. It was almost one, and he was supposed to meet with everyone at Laina’s restaurant to finalize the dinner details at two.

  Wiping his brow, he looked over to where Buck had just finished the stone fire pit they’d begun building that morning. “Looks great, Buck. Let’s hope your food tastes as good as this place looks. It’s Luxury Survivor; not Diners, Drive-ins and Dives.”

  Buck snorted, taking a gulp of water to hide his grin before he answered. “You just worry about seeing that those tents are secure. I’ll make sure their bellies are full. Don’t worry—it’s my experience they’ll be too tired from the ride up here to expect much. It’s kind of like when you take folks snowmobiling and offer them a lukewarm cup of hot chocolate out of a Styrofoam cup at the halfway point. It’s the best hot chocolate they’ve ever tasted when they’re freezing their asses off. Same principle here. They’ll likely be so saddle sore and sunburned, my brats and beers will taste like gourmet treats.”

  Logan chuckled and gathered up the tools they’d used to erect the tents, piling them into the back seat of his Bronco. He’d taken the hardtop off that morning in anticipation of the great weather they were expecting all week long. No rain in the forecast, which was great news for everyone. It was more convenient to get the tents set up early in the week and move on to the other items on their massive to-do lists.

  “I think we’ve gotten about all we can get done in advance. The ladies of Walland House are planning to come back up here the morning of the campout to outfit these tents and fancy the place up a bit.” He slammed the back door of the truck. “I’ll see you tomorrow for that group ride we’ve got booked at nine.”

  “Yeah, I love seeing all that red on our books. Idle hands are the devil’s workshop, and we sure don’t have much time to get into trouble thanks to our schedule. This week anyway.” Buck grinned at Logan, slapping his friend’s shoulder as he made his way to his own truck. They said goodbye and Logan climbed up into the driver’s seat.

  The old Bronco flew back down the road, with Logan determined to have enough time to get cleaned up before the group meeting. Fifteen minutes later, he stood in the shower, letting the morning’s labor slide off with the scalding water. He debated whether he had time for a shave and decided he di
dn’t, choosing instead to let the pounding hot water beat on his aching shoulders for a little longer. He tried not to let his thoughts wander back to Laina, as they’d so often done since their last encounter, but resistance was futile. He’d been looking forward to this excuse to see her again all week long. His body reacted to the thought of her, reminding him to return to the task at hand.

  Shutting off the water, he grabbed a towel, swathing his hips in it, before reaching up to clear a spot on the steamy mirror. He usually didn’t let himself get this scruffy, but he’d been so damned busy he hadn’t given much attention to his appearance lately. He’d been unable to schedule time for a trim either, so his hair was longer than he normally wore it. He reached under the sink and grabbed the only product he could find, applying a dollop of it to his hair with the hope that it would somehow turn chicken shit into chicken salad. Checking the time again, he cursed, rushing into his closet to steal a fresh white T-shirt off a stack of them, too short on time to make any bold wardrobe choices. Throwing on the T-shirt, clean blue jeans, and his favorite old Vans, he was out the door without a minute to spare. Jumping back into the Bronco, he fired up the engine and headed for Laina’s restaurant.

  When he turned the corner a short time later and attempted to find a parking spot nearby, Logan could see India and Wyatt walking into the restaurant from a block away. He slowed down and eased the Bronco into the last available space. Grabbing his leather binder off the seat, he hustled out of the truck and started for the restaurant, hesitating briefly when he saw Van waiting for him at the nearest crosswalk. Right. Van would be here too. The president of my fan club.